


when the clock strikes twelve

by crystaljules



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 03:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13227084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystaljules/pseuds/crystaljules
Summary: “Happy New Year!” everyone yells simultaneously, and it’s not until he’s pulled away that Jonny realizes Patrick kissed him. On the cheek. But still.Or: the evolution of Jonny and Patrick's New Year's Eve kisses.





	when the clock strikes twelve

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! I can't believe I actually wrote this, to be honest. I came up with this idea at the very last minute. It was originally supposed to be a 5+1 fic, but it simply wasn't gonna get done in time. But here we are.
> 
> A huge thanks to my girl AlainaCorrigan for reviewing this and making sure it wasn't a total mess. You're the bomb.com.
> 
> I'm actually happy with how this came out, so enjoy y'all. Cheers to a happy new year!

**New Year’s Eve 2013**

The team’s fired up after they kick the Kings’ ass on home ice. It’s their most complete game of the season and they’re all feeling it, so most of them head out to the bar to celebrate the victory and New Year’s Eve.

Jonny had forgotten all about the date. It never crosses his mind until they all file into the bar, one by one, and Seabs screams, “Twenty minutes until twenty-ten, boys!” and they all erupt in whoops and cheers and laughter.

He’s gonna need like, ten drinks to make it through the night, so he immediately heads to the bar while the singles scurry off to find girls to kiss at midnight and the taken ones search for an empty booth somewhere. The bar’s not particularly crowded, but it’s far from dead. The dance floor is packed with bodies and arms are flying in the arm as the DJ switches from a 1980’s track to Yeah! by Usher.

The bartender smiles at Jonny sheepishly while he orders his drink. The guy’s pretty attractive - all blonde hair and green eyes with a knowing smirk - but Jonny’s far from interested. It’s bad enough that he’s into guys, but what makes it even worse is that he’s a hockey player. There’s barely a moment in his life that is private, and the media would eat this shit up if they had the chance. He can’t take a risk of flirting openly with a bartender who probably knows who he is. Jonny closes his eyes and shakes his head. This fucking sucks.

“Tazer!” someone shouts from behind him, and he knows that voice from anywhere. It haunts his dreams almost every night. And yeah, he _dreams_ about a teammate, okay? Jonny’s not exactly enthralled with the notion that images of Patrick Kane grinning at him and flirting with him and kissing him pop into his head all of the team either.

Jonny sighs and drops his head to his arms that are leaning on the edge of the bar. He hears Pat plop into the seat to his left, but refuses to look at him. Even though there in a room full of alcohol, he can detect the unique scent of Pat’s cologne. Jonny breathes it in, wanting to savor the smell.

“Hey, Jon,” Pat greets him, patting his hand on Jonny’s shoulder. The contact makes Jonny shiver a bit, but he pretends it’s from the cold seeping through the entrance to the bar that’s thirty feet away. “Everything alright?”

He lifts his head from its hiding spot as the bartender slides him the gin and tonic he ordered ten minutes ago now. Jonny tries to thank the guy, looking up to meet his gaze, but the bartender raises an eyebrow, flicks his eyes over to Patrick, and stomps away.

Huh.

Patrick chuckles besides him. “The fuck is up his ass?” he jokes. Jonny cringes slightly.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Pat,” Jonny attempts to justify the guy’s clear annoyance with Patrick. “Maybe he’s just tired from the holidays. I know I am.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Patrick replies. Jonny glances over at him, watching Patrick swipe his tongue over his lower lip and then bite it softly. He’s staring straight ahead, but blinks a few times. Jonny tracks the movement of his dark lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, and zooms in on the freckles that dance across his nose. Patrick’s eyebrows furrow, and he must feel Jonny looking at him, because he turns his head to face Jonny.

Jonny coughs when the DJ announces there’s one minute until midnight, tearing his eyes away from Patrick’s. He hates staring right into his best friend’s eyes, longing for Patrick to look at him in a way he’s wanted forever yet knowing it’ll never occur.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Patrick asks. Jonny chews on the inside of his cheek, and narrows his eyes at Patrick.

“What?” is what he sends back, because he can’t think straight with the unknowing look Patrick’s giving him. His eyes scan Jonny’s face, like he’s trying to find something he’s been searching for. He must not get it, so he watches Jonny carefully. Patrick gives him a small smile complimented with a laugh.

“Nothing.” Patrick’s smiles grows wider as the DJ starts the countdown from ten. “Just the fact that we’ve got no one to kiss, I guess.”

Jonny opens his mouth to argue when the countdown hits five. He wants to tell Patrick that he can’t. Not unless he wants to suffer through pressing his lips to those of another girl he doesn’t want to kiss for the thousandth time, pretending they’re that of a man and craving for the touch of someone he can never have.

He’s known Patrick for so long now that Patrick can probably read his mind and guess what’s going on in Jonny’s head. There’s no way he hasn’t figured out that Jonny’s gay by now. They spend so much time together that it has to be obvious to Patrick.

“Happy New Year!” everyone yells simultaneously, and it’s not until he’s pulled away that Jonny realizes Patrick kissed him. On the cheek. But still. Jonny’s mouth is still hanging open, words dancing on the tip of his tongue. He gawks at Patrick, confused and yet unable to convey his emotions about what just happened. Jonny was so unaware of Patrick leaning in, and brushing his lips against the stubble covering Jonny’s cheek. He doesn’t even remember how it felt. He wants to know how it felt.

Patrick observes Jonny for a moment, wrinkles his nose, and blushes. What the fuck is going on?

“Uh,” Jonny manages to get out, and his voice cracks as he says it. Patrick gives him a half-smile, then leans in and skims his chapped lips across Jonny’s ear.

“Happy New Year, Jon,” Patrick whispers, breath hot against the crevice of his ear and neck. Jonny’s stomach swirls. He thinks he’s going to throw up, if he’s being honest with himself. His body is on fire, every nerve tingling with the dread that someone might spot them. Patrick lingers there for a second too long, then pulls back and slinking away from the now-empty bar.

Jonny follows the movement of Patrick’s body as he heads to the guys that are crowded at the corner of the dance floor. He’s completely sober, so why does he feel so drunk right now?

Maybe he needs to be drunk. He downs his gin and tonic in one go, and calls the bartender for a second. 2010 sucks already.

 

-

 

 

**New Year’s Eve 2014**

Being sick sucks. It’s not like Jonny’s on his deathbed or anything; it’s just a stupid cold that’s been lingering in his system for weeks now. He can’t breathe right, he’s sneezing nonstop, and he sounds like he’s been smoking a pack a day for the last thirty years. He’s been running on so much adrenaline for the past month due to the team’s busy schedule and the cold hadn’t caught up to him until now.

Now, however, Jonny is curled up under two layers of blankets with the heat in his hotel room on full blast. He’s fucking freezing still, shivering every few minutes. There’s nothing on TV that’s good right now, so he keeps flipping channels until he finally settles on watching New Year’s Rockin’ Eve.

Jonny hates that he’s missing the team’s party at the bar downstairs. He wanted to go, but Sharpy refused.

“You looked fucking awful after the last game, Jon,” Sharpy had told him when Jonny called him this morning. “I know you didn’t feel sick, but you gotta get some rest before we play tomorrow. It’s the goddamn Winter Classic, man.”

Sharpy was right, as usual. Jonny didn’t want to give the rest of the team his dumb cold. That’s the last thing they need is for everyone to be zombies on ice.

He’s thankful his team cares, though. Texts have been coming in every few minutes from the guys, asking how he feels and if he wants someone to come over. He’s turned down everyone’s offers, because he’s really fine. Company would be nice, of course, but they’re having a good time and they’re probably drunk by now. No one should be leaving the bar to try and tend to him.

Jonny’s phone is going off again, but this time it doesn’t stop after one vibration. He groans, because it means he’s going to be forced to talk, and he sounds like shit. Jonny squints at the caller ID and rolls his eyes. It’s Patrick, who has to be drunk by now. He loves New Year’s Eve more than anyone Jonny knows.

Even though he wants to be a dick and not pick up, Jonny understands that Patrick’s probably just trying to be a good friend and check on him like everyone else. This is the first time he’s contacted Jonny all night long, but at least he’s making an effort now when it’s almost midnight than making no effort at all.

“Hello?” Jonny croaks as he answers the phone.

“Hey, Tazer. How are you feeling?” Patrick asks right away. Jonny smiles to himself a bit. Pat’s a good friend.

“Like ass. Being sick fucking sucks.” Patrick laughs on the other end of the line.

“It does bud,” he replies before they fall into a comfortable silence. Talking doesn’t require a lot of energy, but Jonny’s voice is so hoarse and he doesn’t want to strain it anymore. He goes to tell Patrick he has to hang up, but Patrick speaks first. “You’re at the hotel, right?”

Jonny blows out a loud breath. “Yeah, I’m here.” And then there’s a loud knock on the door. He frowns, eyeing it, then looks down at his phone. Patrick just ended their call. Ugh, of course Patrick’s here right now.

He tries to not to overthink the situation as he untangles himself from the blankets and gradually paces over to the door. Patrick raps it three more times while Jonny tries to determine why Patrick would show up when Jonny’s sick as a fucking dog.

_Maybe because he cares_ , his brain attempts to tell him. Yeah, there’s probably some truth to that. They’ve been best friends for a while now, and Patrick’s always wanted the best for Jonny. When he hurt his knee during their rookie season, Patrick was the first one to be there for him and help him out. He made sure Jonny was doing all of his stretches and physical therapy exercises. He went over to Jonny’s place unannounced during that span of time, and it’s kind of been how their hangouts have materialized ever since.

Jonny shakes off trying to rationalize everything, he doesn’t want to go too deep into this kind of shit. He’s already knee-deep in feelings when it comes to Patrick. There can’t been too much going on in his head at once, it tires him out.

As soon as the door opens, Patrick’s bright smile greets him, as does the scent of chicken noodle soup. Jonny doesn’t focus on how good Patrick looks right now in his off-white sweater and dark jeans. His hair’s a fucking mess anyway, but somehow Jonny manages to find it attractive.

“Brought this for you,” Patrick says, gesturing to the bowl where the delicious smell is coming from. Jonny can’t really smell anything, but the aroma is so strong and he’s so excited to down it. He’s fucking starving.

“Is that chicken noodle soup?” Jonny questions as he steps to the side to let Patrick in. Patrick nods his head and moves past Jonny to head towards the couch, which is covered in tissues and boxes of cold medicine. He should be more focused on that, but his eyes drop to Patrick’s ass encased in those jeans. Maybe he’s a little high from the NyQuil right now.

“Yeah, it is,” Patrick replies, situating himself on the couch where Jonny was originally sitting. He should probably make Pat get up, but he’s too tired to argue at any degree right now. Letting it be, Jonny drops himself down a few feet away from Patrick and tugs the blankets on top of him.

Patrick holds out the bowl for him, and Jonny snatches it out of his hands. He starts devouring it after he tears off the plastic wrap on top. Patrick even put a spoon in the bowl so Jonny didn’t have to try and search the entire room for one.

_He cares about you_ , his brain tells him. _Shut up, shut up, shut up_ , he yells right back. Jonny doesn’t have the time or patience for this shit.

“Fuck,” he groans when he’s halfway done. “You’re the best.”

Patrick chuckles, watching Jonny with a soft gaze as he eats the rest of the soup. “I figured you were hungry. Made it before I came over here.”

Jonny finishes off the last of the soup before taking a good look at Patrick. He doesn’t seem drunk at all. Jonny figured he had been at the bar with the team before stopping by, but maybe he’s reading this all wrong.

A flush creeps up Patrick’s face when Jonny says, “I thought you would be with everyone else downstairs.” Patrick shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“Nah. I was kinda tired, to be honest. Didn’t really feel like getting drunk tonight,” Patrick explains. Jonny’s not buying it. That doesn’t sound like his best friend at all. Pat’s always the one down to have a good time and drink and be flirtatious with girls when they’re out. When he doesn’t respond, Patrick continues on. “And, uh, I also knew you were sick. Figured you probably wanted some company so you didn’t have to be alone while everyone else is partying. I kind of thought you would be okay with me coming here, but - “

Patrick stops talking abruptly, and he scrunches up his face, tearing his eyes away from Jonny’s right after they meet. His body goes rigid as he bites his bottom lip hard. Jonny cocks his head to the side, confused as to what he said or did that got Patrick so upset. Does he seriously think that Jonny doesn’t want him here?

Worry floods through Jonny’s body, and he shouldn’t be trying to get all up in Patrick’s personal space since he’s sick, but fuck, Pat’s bottom lip is quivering as if he’s about to cry. Jonny will sob if his best friend does.

“Pat, what the _fuck_ ,” Jonny says, shifting closer to tug Patrick towards him, enveloping Pat’s body in his arms. “What are you saying? Of course I want you here.” He shakes against Jonny, sniffling.

“You told Seabs you didn’t want anyone bothering you,” Patrick mutters into Jonny’s sweatshirt. And yeah, that’s not a lie. Seabs asked him this morning after practice if Jonny wanted him to drop food off or something at his place so Jonny didn’t have to worry about making shit. Jonny told him to fuck off and that he would be “just fine without anyone coming over and bothering him”. Patrick must’ve overheard that conversation in the locker room.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Patrick goes on when Jonny doesn’t reply after a minute. “I just...I don’t know.” He shakes his head, digging it further into Jonny’s chest. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

_Fuck_. Jonny’s heart aches and pounds at the same time. It’s a common situation that transpires when Patrick is around him. He’s so used to it happening it usually doesn’t have any effect on him, but he can’t control the emotions scrambling in his head right now. He’s so out of it, and when Patrick lifts his head to peer at Jonny through thick lashes, he almost passes out from the wave of affection passing through him.

Patrick blinks, and stares deep into Jonny’s soul, licking over his lips then smacking them together. His cheeks are rosy red now, and Jonny can’t articulate the look on his face. Which is weird, considering he can typically read Patrick like a book.

“Jonny,” Patrick whispers so quietly Jonny barely hears his voice. His breath hitches when Patrick cups the back of his neck, skimming his fingers over the nape of thin hair in the middle. His touch is so light and Jonny can’t fucking think like this. Especially not when Patrick drags his head down until their foreheads are pressed together, and his breath is flirting over Jonny’s lips.

He doesn’t know who leans in first, but all he knows now is the feeling of Patrick’s lips against his. It’s a soft kiss, sweet and abrupt. It’s over all too soon when their phones buzz at the same time, and Jonny realizes that it’s probably midnight and all of the guys are texting them stupid drunk shit.

Patrick pulls back slowly, eyes half-lidded and he looks so sleepy and overwhelmed from just a brush of his lips against Jonny’s. It’s too much for Jonny to look at, so he clears his throat and picks up his phone.

“It’s, uh,” he starts, not really knowing what to say. He can still taste Patrick’s strawberry chapstick on his lips, and his nose is still filled with the scent of the mint gum that Pat’s chewing. Fuck. “It’s officially 2015.”

Jonny stares down his phone, awaiting Patrick’s response. Maybe he’s regretting kissing Jonny. Maybe he’s thinking to himself that he shouldn’t have come over at all, that this was all just a dumb mistake he’d never make again. Jonny squeezes his eyes shut and swallows hard.

“Yeah,” he hears Patrick breathe out beside him. Jonny’s taken back when Patrick leans his head on Jonny’s shoulder, and he jumps a bit. Patrick snorts and snakes an arm around the small of his back, fingertips squeezing into the dip of his waist. Jonny shudders, but relaxes when Patrick’s grip on him loosens. “Happy New Year, Jon.”

A smile picks the corner of Jonny’s mouth. Maybe everything will be just fine.

 

-

 

 

**New Year’s Eve 2015**

Jonny can’t recall the last time he was this drunk.

Maybe it was when TJ dragged him to some dumbass frat party back at North Dakota and forced him to do three keg stands and Jonny’s fucking drunk brain decided to spit out to TJ that he was gay. Lucky for him, TJ smiled and said, “Let’s find you a hot fucking dude, man,” and draped an arm over Jonny’s shoulder like it was no big deal.

Actually, it was probably when Jonny turned 21 and the team dragged him out to a bar in Chicago to “celebrate”, even though Jonny had been able to get into bars since his first NHL game. That’s what happens when you’re famous. The guys still ordered him a shit ton of shots and beers, and Jonny’s brain-to-mouth function was turned off yet again, and he sputtered out his feelings for Patrick - who didn’t attend the fiasco - to every member of the Chicago Blackhawks who were present at the time. No one was the least bit surprised, even though he found it odd that Sharpy and Seabs and Duncs were beaming at him like they’d be waiting forever for Jonny to admit this.

But right now, the alcohol is lighting up his body and Jonny is aimlessly watching his teammates pile into the large banquet room they reserved at the hotel. The team didn’t want them all flying home too late when their next game isn’t for another three days, so they gave them some space to hang out and watch the ball drop. There’s only about half an hour until midnight, and Jonny scans the crowd of people to find the top of Patrick’s blonde head.

He can’t find him. Weird. Jonny shrugs it off while Seabs sits down on the arm of the chair Jonny’s sitting in. He tries to look up to meet Seabs’ eyes, but the lights are blinding his eyes. Maybe he should ask to turn down the brightness a little.

“Toe-es,” Seabs greets him with a smirk. “How many have you had?”

Jonny raises an eyebrow. “Only a few,” he lies. It’s not like Seabs would know anyway. He was too busy talking with Patrick about apple pie recipes and if Patrick should make reservations for dinner for “the four of them” tomorrow night. Jonny kind of wishes he hadn’t been eavesdropping. He didn’t want to find out about Patrick’s girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever that way.

That was the moment Jonny established that drinking his feelings away would make him stay with his team and socialize for the remainder of the night. Four beers and two shots of vodka later, all he can think about is last New Year’s Eve and the kiss and how Patrick’s lips felt on his for that sweet moment. He can’t believe he thought everything would be fine.

It’s not like shit’s gone down the drain. Jonny and Patrick are...Jonny and Patrick. Toews and Kane. Toe-es and Peekaboo. Same old crap, the way it’s always been between the two of them. But Jonny silently hoped and prayed the kiss last year would change things and they would be more than what they’ve been for however long they’ve been friends now.

He’s never going to bring it up, though. Not when he knows Patrick doesn’t like-like Jonny the way Jonny like-likes him. It’s a pointless conversation to have when he can already predict a sour outcome.

“Earth to the captain,” Seabs shouts right at his ear. Jonny jumps and narrows his eyes at Seabs.

“What the actual fuck man,” Jonny spits in annoyance. Seabs shoots him a charming smile. It’s not going to work. “Why are you yelling?”

“You spaced out, dude,” Seabs tells him, putting his hands up in defense. “Calm down. Wasn’t tryna startle you or anything.”

Jonny huffs out a breath and purses his lips. “Fine.”

Seabs eyes him and leans in a little closer. Jonny glances behind him to where Duncs is drawn in conversation with Hoss and Darls. Maybe Jonny should tell Seabs to fuck off and talk with them.

“You okay, Jonny?” Seabs asks. Jonny can pick out the worried tone in Seabs’ voice and how he questioned how drunk Jonny really is in a more subtle manner than normal.

He really wants to deceive Seabs, tell him nothing’s wrong and he’s just so drunk because he’s super happy about their win last night. Jonny’s initial instinct is always to tell Seabs that all is fine and will be for the rest of his life. But Seabs’ shooting him this challenging glare that’s saying lie to my face bro, I dare you and Jonny decides just to give in.

“Fuck no, I’m not okay,” Jonny whispers, voice cracking a bit. He looks directly at Seabs. “Patrick kissed me last year.”

Seabs’ eyebrows shoot up. “No shit,” is his response. He shakes his head, then runs a hand through his hair. “Damn, Jon. Was not expecting that.”

“I wasn’t either. Trust me.” Jonny flicks his gaze back over Seabs’ shoulder and his eyes widen when he finds Patrick staring at him, but he doesn’t look mad or annoyed or upset. Jonny wasn’t expecting for him to just randomly pop up in the midst of this conversation and now he’s all of ten feet away from them. Jonny can’t quite read his expression, but he doesn’t think Patrick can hear the discussion between him and Seabs.

Seabs catches the discern on Jonny’s face and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m guessing you overheard the conversation with me and him earlier, right?” Jonny’s eyes are still on Patrick though, even though he’s not looking at Jonny anymore and is talking to Hammer and Crow with bright eyes and a wide smile. He doesn’t want to reply, so he simply nods. “He was gonna ask you if you wanted to join us.” Jonny sits up straight, gnawing on his bottom lip out of nervousness. He didn’t think that would be Seabs’ response. “Don’t overthink this, Jonathan. Just talk to him.”

Jonny pulls back a little, still tracking Patrick’s movement out of the corner of his eye when Seabs studies him. He sighs and closes his eyes, because Seabs is probably right, as usual. This shit’s been going on too long for Jonny and the emotional distress it’s caused him in the last few years is mind-boggling.

Yeah. They need to talk, Jonny thinks as his eyes take in Patrick’s everything. His blue eyes are twinkling as the lights hit them and he moves his head back and forth, glancing from Hammer to Crow. Jonny doesn’t think he drank much tonight, but he definitely had some because his cheeks are slightly flushed, making his freckles that dance across his nose and cheeks stand out. Patrick cut his hair this season, so it’s not at crazy as normal, and Jonny kind of misses the long, wild curls that can’t be tamed. But the way Patrick’s hair curls a little in the front where he left it a little longer than the rest is a really great look on him. And his smile is...yeah. It’s Jonny’s favorite thing about Patrick, especially when it’s directed at him.

And Jonny must’ve been caught up in how fucking gorgeous Pat looks (which is not unusual at all, he always looks great in Jonny’s opinion) because now Patrick’s smile is smaller than it was before and - shit. Jonny can pick up that look from anywhere in a crowd. It’s reserved and just for him, and it hits him like a wave of bricks that this is Patrick’s designated “Jonny smile”. Sharpy used to make fun of it when he was messing around with them, laughing while telling Jonny that no one else makes Patrick smile that way but him. Seabs has also pointed it out a few times, but Jonny never thought to make anything of it. It’s just a dumb smile that makes his heart melt a little, is all.

And now he can acknowledge that fact and prove it’s true, especially when Patrick draws in his lower lip and nibbles on it while batting his eyelashes at Jonny. Heat sparks through his body, and Jonny has to do something about this. He pats Sharpy’s bicep and nods at him once. Seabs’ eyes are eagerly dancing when Jonny glimpses at him.

“Go get ‘em, captain,” he tells Jonny quietly, slapping his ass as Jonny walks away and towards Patrick. Jonny yelps and Seabs just chuckles.

Patrick sees Jonny pacing towards him, and falls into step beside him as they walk out of the room to somewhere more private. Jonny still feels a little drunk, but sober enough to not understand what this conversation means. He’s scared, of course. His whole body is shaking with nerves as they get in the elevator back up to the team’s floor. It gets worse when neither of them decide to speak before they get to one of their rooms.

Jonny thinks of their friendship since they joined the league eight years ago and how much they’ve grown. They’ve always been weird about each other, and Jonny used to worry so much about all of the media attention their relationship has received: Kane and Toews, the dynamic duo, the best bromance in hockey, or whatever. He constantly guessed his more-than-friends feelings toward Pat were due to hockey because fuck is Patrick the best player he’s ever seen.

When he really reflects back though, Jonny knows the unfamiliar tension in his body whenever Patrick simply glanced at him was not because of hockey. He never spotted Patrick’s coy smiles and gleaming eyes aimed at anyone else besides a few others he really cared about, like his family and Sharpy and sometimes Seabs or Duncs, but it was rare. Patrick has never been handsy and touchy-feely with anyone else on the team other than Jonny, too. Yeah, Jonny has no sense of personal space when Patrick is around, but Patrick gives in so easily, leaning into Jonny’s side or clutching his wrist or running his hands through Jonny’s hair, then toying with ends at the nape of his neck.

As Patrick pulls out the keycard to his hotel room, Jonny suddenly gains more confidence that this is going to happen. Something good will come out of this talk and admission of feelings. He’s anxious and can’t stop the butterflies filling his stomach, but the most he can do is try.

Jonny follows Patrick as he walks to the bed, and plops down on the edge. Patrick does the same, but refuses to look Jonny in the eye. Jonny checks his watch - 11:49 - and yeah, he’s got time.

“So,” Jonny tries to start, but it’s not going to work. Patrick is nervously picking at the string hanging from his plaid button down shirt, which he’s wearing the fuck out of. Usually Patrick doesn’t look to undo any buttons, but the two on top are undone and his broad chest is peeking out of the shirt. Jonny tries hard not to stare at the movement of his muscles as he continuously toys with the string.

He takes a deep breath and prepares himself to say the words he’s longed to spit out for days, weeks, months, years. Once it happens, there’s no going back. Patrick will know exactly how Jonny feels, has felt about him for the longest time. This could change everything - no, it will change everything. All he has to do is say -

“I’m in love with you,” someone says, and it’s definitely not Jonny, and there’s only one other person in this room besides him.

Patrick lifts his head slowly to finally focus on Jonny, and _shit_ \- his eyes are red and watery and he’s scaring the shit out of Jonny. Why is he crying?

“Pat, what - “ he begins to say, but Patrick shakes his head and waves his head to get him to stop talking. “

Don’t say anything yet, Jonny,” Patrick says. Jonny snaps his mouth shut, watching Patrick’s expression close up while he sighs unevenly. “I just - I had to tell you now before you had the chance to say anything.” Patrick coughs, and it’s wet and so are his cheeks from tears, and Jonny can’t fucking take this right now. He scoots closer to Patrick, placing a hand gently on his bent knee that’s up on the bed. Jonny’s thankful Patrick doesn’t freak out and try to move away from him.

There’s so much he wants to say to Patrick, but Jonny lets him do all of the admitting of feelings for now, especially since he’s been waiting for eight years - and maybe even longer than that - to hear how Patrick feels.

“I, uh - I’ve felt this way for a while now,” Patrick continues slowly and softly, like he’s struggling so he doesn’t break. Jonny’s heart aches. “Like, a long time. I can’t tell you when it started, but I’ve made it pretty obvious, I guess. And in the beginning, it felt like these feelings were forced on me because of the media always talking about us, but it took me forever to realize that simply wasn’t true.”

Patrick laughs lightly and shakes his head, biting his lower lip. He opens his mouth to continue, but no words come out. Jonny takes the opportunity to jump in and say what he’s needed to tell Patrick - his linemate, his best friend, his _everything_ \- since he looked Patrick in the eyes in 2007 and told him, “We’re gonna fill this place up.”

“Me too,” Jonny whispers in the thick air of the hotel room. Patrick chokes on a sob and Jonny is just so fucking in love him and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“What?” Patrick says, voice gravelly and heavy with emotion. Jonny craves to kiss him right now - on his cheeks, his jawline, his eyelids, his nose, his temples, and his lips.

Jonny giggles - fucking _giggles_ \- and tugs Patrick up and onto his lap. He presses his left hand into the small of Patrick’s back to keep him sitting upright, and slides his other hand to cup Patrick’s cheek, rubbing his thumb along the cheekbone and wiping away the tears.

“Patrick,” Jonny sighs. Patrick gives him a wobbly smile, tilting his head into Jonny’s palm. “Me too. I’ve been in love with you for so long, you have to know that. I don’t know how long I have felt like this, but it really hit me when you took care of me during my concussion - “

“Even though you were a fucking idiot and didn’t tell,” Patrick interrupts, but runs a hand up Jonny’s side to soothe the sting of the comment. Jonny really wants to argue with him, but he knows there’s no place for that in a moment so intimate.

“Yeah, I was,” he confesses. He skims his hand along Patrick’s spine under his shirt, every touch of skin making his whole body buzz with excitement and bliss and _love_. “And I’ve been a fucking idiot for not telling you exactly how I feel about you all this time, too.”

Patrick laughs and nods his head, still beaming at Jonny like he hung the goddamn moon. “But you’re here now.” Patrick leans forward, wraps his arms around Jonny’s neck. Jonny never wants to let go of him again.

Jonny lets Patrick bump their foreheads together, holding each other’s gaze and staring deep into one another’s soul.

“But I’m here now,” Jonny repeats, “and so are you. And you are the most beautiful human being I’ve ever met, and you may piss me the fuck off sometimes and I may want to punch you once in a while because you never shut up, jesus christ.” Now Patrick’s laughing his ass off, sending vibrations throughout his body that Jonny senses in his own. “But now that I have you, I don’t think I’m ever going to let you go.”

“That’s weird, Jonny,” Patrick teases. “You’re going to have to let go to the bathroom on my own and visit my family every so often. And what, now we’ve gotta go to Winterpeg, too? Fuck my - “ J

onny snorts and lets Patrick’s lips hover over his. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” he asks while Patrick is laughing his ass off and decides to get him to stop talking by dragging Patrick’s head in and pressing their lips together.

Patrick literally melts into Jonny, and he makes sure every single one of their limbs are touching. He tries to bring Jonny closer to him by grabbing his neck, but Jonny just laughs and coaxes Patrick’s mouth open to dance his tongue along Patrick’s bottom lip. They both let out soft moans, and Jonny can feel Patrick’s heart pounding against his chest, so he slides his hand down Patrick’s face to his neck, fingers dancing along veins and cords of muscle, before stopping over Patrick’s left pec, where Jonny knows his heart is.

“Jonny,” Patrick gasps into Jonny’s mouth, but he doesn’t move his hand away. He needs to see the effect he has on Patrick - the effect they have on each other when they’re this close in proximity.

They kiss again, this time with more fervor and passion. Patrick’s lips are chapped and dry against Jonny’s smooth ones, but Patrick is nudging his tongue against Jonny’s and it’s so good he never wants to stop. Patrick’s hands cup Jonny’s jaw and Jonny breaks away, pecking the corner of Patrick’s mouth before pressing open-mouthed kisses down his jawline.

“Fuck,” Patrick pants, tilting his head back so Jonny can easily reach his neck. Jonny peppers kisses down his neck and back up, letting every moan and gasp from Patrick light up his core. He’s hard, and he can feel Patrick is too if his jean-clad dick is anything to go by. Jonny nibbles on Patrick’s bottom lip, fighting for a bit of air but not wanting to break the kiss.

Patrick can’t stop moaning as Jonny slides his left hand down to grab Patrick’s ass, something he’s been yearning to do forever. Patrick chuckles and glides his hand up to Jonny’s scalp, massaging it deeply with his fingertips. It’s the best thing Jonny has ever felt. He slides his tongue over Patrick’s one more time before drawing back and gingerly pecking his lips.

He pulls back, much to Patrick’s dismay as he whimpers and Jonny cracks up.

“You that desperate to make out with me again, Peeks?” he jokes, and Patrick pulls his hands from Jonny’s hair and crosses his arms, pouting like a child. Jonny laughs even harder.

“Not if you’re gonna be a dick to me,” Patrick mutters, and Jonny rolls his eyes. He gives Patrick a playful smack to the chest, and Patrick yelps. “Hey! That’s no way to treat your boyfriend.”

Jonny quirks an eyebrow, smirking. “Boyfriend, eh?” he teases. Patrick blushes as Jonny stares at him, trying to put all of his love and admiration for Patrick on display.

Their phones interrupt them, just like last year, signaling that it’s officially the new year. Neither of them bother to check, though. They’re too deep in each other’s gazes, and Jonny isn’t willing to break eye contact and it seems that Patrick isn’t, as well. So they sit and stare at each other with giant grins.

“This is so cheesy,” Jonny says. Patrick shrugs and kisses Jonny softly.

“Eh, what are you gonna do?” he replies, flashing the smile Jonny knows and loves so much. “It’s us man. What did you expect?”

Jonny’s heart is so full, and it’s too much. He presses a small kiss to Patrick’s lips once more before tugging him close and slinking his arms around Patrick’s back. Jonny lays his head on Patrick’s shoulder and brushes dry kisses to his neck. Patrick shudders and digs his head into the crook of Jonny’s neck.

“Happy New Year, boyfriend,” Patrick whispers, breath hot against Jonny’s exposed collarbone. Jonny sighs, content and happy and filled with affection.

“I love you, Patrick,” Jonny says, closing his eyes and breathing in the moment. Patrick kisses the knob of Jonny’s Adam’s apple tenderly before tilting Jonny back onto the bed and splaying across his chest. He scoots down so his head rests on Jonny’s chest, listening to every beat of Jonny’s heart. The position isn’t the most comfortable, but Patrick’s here and there’s nothing more he could ever ask for. He’d be uncomfortable all of the time if it means he gets to have Patrick Kane laying on his chest and kissing him and saying -

“Yeah,” Patrick mutters. “I love you too, Jon. So much.”

Jonny grasps the fact that he gets to have this every day for however long Patrick will let him have this, and Jonny only hopes it’s for the rest of their lives.


End file.
